creek, and nearly a
quarter of a mile beyond the rest of the troops. [Footnote: St. Clair's
Letter to the Secretary of War, Nov. 9, 1791.] Parties of Indians were
seen during the afternoon, and they skulked around the lines at night,
so that the sentinels frequently fired at them; yet neither St. Clair
nor Butler took any adequate measures to ward off the impending blow. It
is improbable that, as things actually were at this time, they could
have won a victory over their terrible foes; but they might have avoided
overwhelming disaster.

The Indians Surprise the Camp at Dawn.

On November 4th the men were under arms, as usual, by dawn, St. Clair
intending to throw up entrenchments and then make a forced march in
light order against the Indian towns. But he was forestalled. Soon after
sunrise, just as the men were dismissed from parade, a sudden assault
was made upon the militia, who lay unprotected beyond the creek. The
unexpectedness and fury of the onset, the heavy firing, and the
appalling whoops and yells of the throngs of painted savages threw the
militia into disorder. After a few moments' resistance they broke and
fled in wild panic to the camp of the regulars, among whom they drove in
a frightened herd, spreading dismay and confusion.

The drums beat, and the troops sprang to arms, as soon as they heard the
heavy firing at the front; and their volleys for a moment checked the
onrush of the plumed woodland warriors. But the check availed nothing.
The braves filed off to one side and the other, completely surrounded
the camp, killed or drove in the guards and pickets, and then advanced
close to the main lines. [Footnote: Denny, November 4th; also p. 221.]

Desperate Fighting Follows.

A furious battle followed. After the first onset the Indians fought in
silence, no sound coming from them save the incessant rattle of their
fire, as they crept from log to log, from tree to tree, ever closer and
closer. The soldiers stood in close order, in the open; their musketry
and artillery fire made a tremendous noise, but did little damage to a
foe they could hardly see. Now and then, through the hanging smoke,
terrible figures flitted, painted black and red, the feathers of the
hawk and eagle braided in their long scalp-locks; but save for these
glimpses, the soldiers knew the presence of their sombre enemy only from
the fearful rapidity with which their comrades fell dead and wounded in
the ranks. They never ev